


Talking About Boys

by OutcastDeity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Boy Melodrama "BM" Scene (Supernatural), Brothers, Coming Out, M/M, Past Dean Winchester/Arthur Ketch, Past Mary Winchester/Arthur Ketch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutcastDeity/pseuds/OutcastDeity
Summary: Just the Winchesters discussing Dean's mistrust of Ketch as they drive back to the Bunker.“Look, all I’m saying is that your hatred of him is so clearly personal that it makes me wonder whether you’re making the right decision in saying no to whatever help he can give us. Having a man on the inside of Asmodeus’ inner circle can’t be a bad thing and -”“I slept with him.”Set in season 13.
Relationships: Arthur Ketch/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 116





	Talking About Boys

Driving away from the motel where they had found ‘Sister’ Jo and Lucifer, in the wake of the devil slipping out of their clutches once again, Dean couldn’t help but contemplate how mammoth their task seemed to be getting. After evading at least two apocalypses, being unable to do something as simple as find Jack and save their mom felt like an immense failure.

And of course that son of a bitch, Ketch, would just so happen to be there, offering his support with that stupid smarmy look on his stupid British face. _Quid pro quo. Tit for tat,_ _and all that_ _. I’m one of the good guys, I promise._

Dick.

Dean kicked his leg out a little in frustration, careful to avoid the Impala’s perfectly maintained upholstery in the foot-well, especially given that he hadn’t cleaned his boots in a while and there was a thick layer of dust on them he was loathe to get on his baby’s interiors, and glanced across at his brother, who was driving. Sam’s brows were furrowed a little – he was beginning to get worry lines on his forehead from adopting that expression so much – and he was staring at the road out ahead of them like the long stretches of asphalt back to the bunker would give him the answers to getting Jack back.

Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Cas driving behind them. It always gave him a little kick to see the angel gripping at the wheel of a beat up old truck with perfect ten and two positioning. Warrior of the Lord, commander of armies, and fallen angel or not, Cas was a nervous driver. It weirdly suited him.

“Dean.”

Great, Sam was using – _that_ – tone of voice. The one that said Dean wasn’t going to like the conversation that would come after. He shifted a little on the bench.

“What?” He grumbled back. Maybe he could just put some tunes on and avoid whatever feelings talk Sam wanted to have now.

“About Ketch.” Sam said, making Dean frown. “I know you don’t like him.”

“ _We_ don’t like him.” Dean corrected.

“We don’t like him.” Sam agreed. “I just… He does have some good weapons at his disposal.”

“Please tell me you’re not seriously thinking of working with him again. Do I need to remind you of what he did?”

Sam sighed, a long-suffering sound that Dean didn’t think he truly deserved to make.

“Maybe.” He relented, and when Dean managed an incredibly disbelieving scoff he quickly backtracked. “I know he’s bad news. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done. I just… I dunno. It seems like it’s more… personal, to you.”

Dean remained as relaxed as he could, his pupils sliding to the side of his eyes in an attempt to look at his brother without moving his head and give away that he was clearly sizing the other man up for a reaction. He took a deep breath and told himself that there was no way Sam could have meant anything other than Dean reacted strongly whenever someone suggest he trust the merciless, British bag of dicks.

“He did try to kill me.” He reminded. “And you.”

“I know.” Sam replied. “But Roy and Walt _actually_ killed us, and we forgave them.”

Dean rolled his eyes, looking out the passenger side window and getting his own reflection looking back at him. Hell, he looked tired.

“He’s the enemy. He’s working for Asmodeus.”

Sam had a response for that too.

“Crowley was the king of hell and you two were Bonnie and Clyding it all over the place, so -”

“Yeah well, turns out he was alright in the end...” Dean quickly interrupted before Sam could go on another tirade about his summer of bromance with the accented Demon. In Dean’s defence, he had been a demon himself at the time – but Sam always seemed to forget that titbit when he wanted to rib Dean for the months he’d spent partying with Crowley.

“That’s what I’m saying.” Sam spoke cautiously. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but Sam never did back down from the hard topics. “Maybe Ketch -”

“No.” Dean interrupted again, knowing what his brother was getting at. “Ketch isn’t like Crowley.”

That much, he firmly believed. Crowley had been a power-hungry, title-grabbing, giant bag of dicks for the majority of the time the Winchesters had known him. But he’d also saved their hides more times than Dean could count, and was self-centred enough to know that saving the world made sense when you lived in it. Sure, the King of Hell was self-serving, but there had also been times when he’d gone out of his way to make sure Dean and his brother were safe. Besides, he had made the ultimate sacrifice, in the end. And Dean owed him enough to not lump him in with the likes of Ketch.

“Dean.” Sam repeated, his voice soft and oddly knowing. Dean bit his tongue and tried not to respond to what was clearly an attempt at Sam coming across as non-judgemental. He was using the same tone he used on the survivors of monster attacks. His younger brother sighed down at the wheel. “Seriously, man. What did Ketch do to you?”

Dean tried really hard not to react, but his wince was involuntary. It was only small – probably not even noticeable to most people – but Sam wasn’t most people, and without even taking his eyes off the road Dean knew his brother had noticed the slip. He stubbornly kept looking out his window and almost didn’t respond, but then he thought of a way that might throw Sam off track.

“Do I have to remind you that you were tortured by these people?”

Sam shrugged his massive shoulders.

“That wasn’t him.” He responded easily.

“It was the organisation he worked for.”

“It’s the organisation _we_ work for.” Sam shot back with an amused laugh. Dean rolled his eyes. They didn’t work for anyone. Especially not British dickwads.

“Fine.” He relented, instead of trying to explain to Sam that they owed the Men of Letters nothing. Sam wouldn’t see it that way anyway. He was made to be a paper-pusher. He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t think of any more excuses, and it was clear Sam wasn’t accepting them anyway.

“Come on, De.” Sam tried, the nickname making it sound cajoling but almost sweet. “We’ve forgiven people for doing a lot worse than following orders. And don’t think I didn’t see that wince.” He admitted. Dean almost winced again.

Then came Sam’s pièce de résistance. The evidence he’d collected that told him Dean’s beef with Ketch wasn’t just because the man was self-serving and evil, but because of something more personal. Sometimes Dean hated the ever-watchful, lawyer side of his brother. If only because it was very inconvenient to have someone who knew when you were lying.

“You knew it was him.” Sam exposed. “When I was convinced he was his own twin brother, you knew. That paper-trail was so convincing, but you knew the whole time. You were absolutely certain.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

“I explained that.” He huffed. Sam snorted out an amused sound through his nose. Dean turned back to look at him and the look on his face showed nothing but how much he didn’t buy what Dean was trying to sell.

But the thing was, it wasn’t going to be as simple as just explaining why Ketch was completely irredeemable and never trustworthy again. Sam should already know that. His little brother was simply too kind for his own good, always wanting to see the best in people. But Dean couldn’t do that on his best days, and he definitely couldn’t do it with Ketch.

Time to be a bit more honest, he supposed. Perhaps a half-truth would be enough.

“It’s… what he did to mom.”

That, at least, got Sam to glance over at him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel a little. His brow furrowed again. What had happened to their mother was not something either of them could get over easily, but to be fair Sam didn’t know the particulars of Dean’s trip inside Mary’s brain, and the things he had realised there.

“Again, Dean, that wasn’t him.” Sam finally responded, although now he seemed less sure of himself. Dean fought the urge to snarl.

“He was complicit in it.” He reminded his brother. “And… he was sleeping with her.”

He hadn’t said that part out loud before. It felt awful on his tongue and made him feel sick. The idea that their mom had trusted that man enough to sleep with him and that he had betrayed her in such a completely horrendous way would be enough to fuel his hatred for the man even without his own personal issues. As it was, he would be replaying the moment Mary put a bullet in his head for many more months of happy dreams, and he was only sad it hadn’t kept him dead.

Sam laughed in a shocked way – a bark of a thing that sounded jarring given the tense nature in the car.

“So this all boils down to not wanting him as a step-father?”

Dear fucking God, Dean was going to be sick. He hadn’t even really thought about whether their mother might have had feelings for the man beyond getting her rocks off. The whole situation was all kinds of complicated.

“No. Hell, no.” He denied gruffly. “Damn it Sammy, what do I have to do to get you to drop this?”

Sam rose an eyebrow. Dean knew the moment he had said the words that he’d just signed his own death warrant.

“Look, all I’m saying is that your hatred of him is so clearly personal that it makes me wonder whether you’re making the right decision in saying no to whatever help he can give us. Having a man on the inside of Asmodeus’ inner circle can’t be a bad thing and -”

“I slept with him.”

“- In the future – What?”

Dean winced again. This time he didn’t even try to hide it. Inwardly he was mortified that he’d said it out loud. To Sam. To his little brother. His choices when it came to that British son of a bitch had been embarrassing enough when contemplating them in his own mind – but to admit to having slept with the dick to Sam, who he had always coveted a slight amount of hero-worship from, was the type of embarrassment that made him genuinely wish for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Then, before he knew what he was doing, he was running his mouth trying to explain away his choices and talking incredibly fast without pausing for breath.

“I slept with him, a couple of times.” He elaborated. “Just an adrenaline thing mostly. Before mom. I think. I mean, I hope. Because I guess that makes it slightly less weird. I dunno. But he never… he never told me he was sleeping with her. I mean, talking was never exactly high on the agenda but – fuck – I don’t even want to think about it. Anyway, that’s why. That’s why I know he can’t be trusted. He straight up looked me dead in the eye and lied to me, repeatedly – and how the hell am I supposed to tell what’s not a lie when that seems to be the only way he knows how to fucking talk?”

After a moment he realised how much information he’d just thrown at Sam, and went very quiet.

“Oh.” Sam replied, sounding shocked. Dean bit his tongue again. Then: “And were there… feelings, there?”

Dean crinkled his nose.

“Hell no.” He responded. Then glanced over at his brother. Sam was still driving calmly, looking mildly shocked but not disgusted or anything. Dean hated that he was so curious as to what his brother was thinking, as to whether he was inwardly judging him. He should be above getting nervous about how Sam would react to things that, invariably, didn’t actually involve him. But he was. Nervous. Terrified. Secretly wanting his brother to physically say the words ‘I accept you’. So, typically, he fished for more details using his patented Dean Winchester Bravado. “Honestly man I was expecting more of a -” and here he adopted a high-pitched mocking of his brother’s voice - “ _Oh my god Dean I had no idea, since when have you been gay?”_

He kind of regretted taking the piss the moment he did it. Sam glanced across at him with a confused expression.

“Since when have you _not_ been gay?” He asked.

Instinctively, Dean flinched away from what came across as a mocking tone. Sam must have seen the reaction, because he very quickly backtracked.

“No, shit. I Just meant… it’s fine. I’ve always kind of known you liked guys as well as girls. I mean, I’ve seen you check out enough dudes in bars to have an inkling. You never said anything but I kind of figured you knew I knew? I’m… sorry if… maybe I didn’t have that channel open for you to tell me.”

“Jesus.” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t some emotional coming out shit. We are not having a girly, lets talk about our feelings, and boys, and have a pillow fight moment, okay? Just… that’s the situation.” He ended gruffly.

Sam smirked down at the steering wheel, which was never a good sign.

“Except we kind of are talking about boys.” He replied with a teasing lilt. Dean sneered back at him.

“Oh, are we?” He asked, trying to make light of the atmosphere. “You want to talk about boys? Want to compare notes on who’s got the cutest butt?”

Sam laughed, pure and joyful, and Dean’s heart fluttered a little in his chest because it felt like the end of the Big Bad Conversation and it was a sound that meant his brother wasn’t going to treat him any differently now he knew that Dean’s sexual adventures weren’t limited to women. Then his younger brother shook his head a little ruefully.

“Okay, so Ketch can’t be redeemed because you and mom have the same taste in men?” He confirmed.

Dean almost shouted in pure shocked disgust.

“I do _not_ have the same taste in men as mom!” He protested. Sam rose one eyebrow and smirked.

“Sure, because big burly ex-marines totally don’t do it for you.” He mocked.

Fuck. Dean was definitely going to punch his brother if Sam wasn’t careful.

“Ew, Sammy.” He responded, not caring that it came out incredibly preppy. “Bringing up Dad? Really? Way to make it weird.”

Sam laughed again.

“It’s already weird. You and mom _shared_ a man.”

“Not on purpose!” Dean all but yelped.

Sam glanced across at him again before putting his eyes back on the road, and in that second his brother was looking at him Dean realised that Sam wasn’t disgusted – he was teasing him, but he genuinely didn’t think Dean would stoop so low as to take his mother’s seconds. He realised that this secret he’d tried so desperately to hold on to was finally off his chest, and that he hadn’t been rejected. A stupid smile bloomed in to being on his face, and he had to look out the window again to hide it from Sam. Once more he saw his reflection looking back at him, but this time he didn’t look so tired. Sure, they still had a mammoth task ahead of them – but one tiny weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I’ll take your lead on this, then.” Sam promised him. “I just hope you know that you don’t have to trust him to use him.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully.

“You’re damn right I don’t.” He smirked.

The mortified look on Sam’s face as he realised exactly what Dean was alluding to had them back on an even playing field. Dean would put some more thought in to whether using Ketch for information was worth having to physically be around the dick. Until then, they would keep working towards their goal of rescuing Jack and their mum.

And in the mean time, they’d hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> I've imagined how Dean could come out to Sam so many times... and this is the one I went with.  
> This is my first time writing Supernatural. Lockdown meant I re-watched the Series. Thanks for reading!


End file.
